


Balin and Óin

by Judayre



Series: Pair and Gender Challenge [2]
Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Gen, Gender binary is for wimps, challenge writing, tagged in chapters
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-27
Updated: 2014-02-02
Packaged: 2018-01-10 05:12:56
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 1,617
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1155507
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Judayre/pseuds/Judayre
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>4 different ways Balin and Óin could interact.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> If you have not read [the explanation](http://archiveofourown.org/works/1145580/chapters/2319756), please do so.
> 
> There is no update schedule for this challenge, and I won't always have the whole set of shorts when I post them. I did that specifically with the last one just to show what it would be like.
> 
> This chapter takes place in the Line of Durin 'verse.

Óin collapsed in a chair and watched as Balin sent Fíli home. "I need a drink," he said when his cousin returned. "I need a lot of them."

Balin poured something amber and strong smelling and passed it over wordlessly, getting himself a glass as well.

"Of all the things I never thought I'd see in my life, the despair in that room...." His voice trailed off and he drained the glass in one gulp, passing it over for a refill. "Births should be joyous," he muttered into it, drinking it down again.

Balin placed the bottle between them, only sipping at his own. If he had been there, Óin thought, he wouldn't be drinking so slowly.

"It was a fine, strong boy," he said at last, staring morosely into his third drink. "Looks to take after your brother. Good lungs, dark hair."

Third and fourth glasses were drained and Balin was still sipping his first. Did he not understand?

"Have you ever seen Dís cry?"

Balin shook his head before glancing over, and Óin saw shock on his face as he set his glass on the table.

"I hadn't either," Óin said, and his hand was shaking too hard for him to pour again. He kept trying because he needed to forget. Eventually the glass slipped from his hand and rolled across the floor, too heavy to break from the drop.

He grabbed Balin's abandoned drink and drained it. But drink had never brought him oblivion, just brought everything closer to the surface. He had seen how Dís looked at the baby. He had seen just how much she had clung to him. He couldn't forget her tears, no matter how he tried. And even if it did nothing to change the situation, he couldn't keep from adding his own.

He woke hours later, lying in Balin's bed with his cousin keeping watch close by. Balin was asleep in a chair, turned half to him and half to the door as if to protect him. As he had always protected them. And Óin let himself feel safe as he had when they were children and he was the stranger healer's apprentice who needed his cousin's protection. Balin couldn't make it better this time, but he was still a rock, and he would hold those he loved against the raging of the tides.

Thus assured, Óin went back to sleep, tears put away for the night.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Óin and Balin have different priorities.

The noise from the doorway behind meant that Balin had entered. Balin always announced his presence. Óin sighed and bent further over the text, hoping Balin would get the hint.

He didn't, of course.

"Have you decided yet?" he demanded.

Óin didn't look up. "Decided what?"

"Decided what you _are_."

For all that Balin was three years older, Óin often felt the elder. "Yes, of course I have."

"Well?"

"I'm a healer's apprentice. Now leave me to study."

Rather than leaving, Balin slammed his hands over the book, shutting it with a slam. "It isn't a joke, Óin! It's what your whole life is based on!"

"You're right," Óin agreed, finally looking up. "My training is what my life is based on. Nothing else matters, so I'll thank you to leave me alone. I don't care that you're male. I don't care that our king is make. I don't care that my mother is female. It doesn't matter. Now leave me alone."

"It does matter," Balin insisted. "You're my cousin and I love you and I won't let you throw yourself away because your head is so deep in medical texts that you're not thinking about your social status."

Óin glared with a huff. "Fine. I'm male. Leave me alone."

And with that, Balin was pleased and left and Óin was left to study.

Most of a week later, Óin went in search of something for the master healer who taught most of the apprentices. Balin was walking with a friend, proudly recounting a story, arms moving broadly. As Óin got closer, it became apparent that it was the story of their last meeting and Balin was taking full credit for his cousin finally picking a gender.

Óin's eyes narrowed. "I was wrong. Perhaps I'm both." It was said just when they passed and then Óin was off down the corridor, feeling Balin's eyes.

The next day, Óin was forced away from books and medicines to a family dinner. Uncle Fundin's family was coming as well, which meant young Dwalin thumping Glóin every few minutes. This meant it wouldn't be a total waste of time in terms of practice.

Óin opened the door to find everyone else was already there.

"...And none of them knew what the right mixture for burns was," Balin said, Óin coming in on the middle of the conversation but recognizing the story he was telling. He had heard it from Óin, whose part in the story was coming soon. "So they went to Óin, and ze said--"

Óin frowned. "That sounds wrong." Balin's mouth shut with a click as he was cut off. "You should try neither."

While Balin glared impotently, Óin went to dinner.

To be honest, Óin was not at all surprised at Balin's arrival in the medical school the next day.

"Are you female today?" he asked waspishly.

Óin smiled at him. "No. I am Óin. As I was yesterday and last week and last year. And if you have finally understood that, I have reading to do."

Balin made a face, but he did leave and it was never brought up again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It is seriously hard to write without the use of pronouns.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Óin thinks of how his cousin has changed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I'm in a quandary here. I don't have a title for this 'verse. I keep messing up and calling it "the Bilberry one" but the whole point is that he's NOT Bilberry. So, in a nod to [Gargoyles (jump to 14:00)](http://m.youtube.com/watch?v=HVDoLHpWBJk), I've been calling it the Hudson. Which doesn't really work, but will have to until I can come up with an actual name!
> 
> (Also, I'm kind of lost on how I'm going to do chapter four. Throw out suggestions for what variations of Óin and Balin you'd like to see and I would be very grateful.)

It was said that those who were both were popinjays, as concerned with their appearance as both single sexes combined, looking down on those who were only one or who were neither as if they had understanding no one else did. When they were young, Óin had thought those ideas made to describe his cousin Balin. Balin, who took so much time on his morning ablutions that it was no surprise that Dwalin always looked a mess. Balin, who was well educated and sneered at anyone who disagreed with him because obviously he knew better.

Balin was noble, attractive, brilliant. And ze knew it. And ze made sure everyone knew it.

If the home of the Hobbit burglar, Óin saw Balin for the first time in years and had to consider his opinion on his cousin. Certainly, zir clothes were of the best quality they could afford - richly dyed and patterned, a deep red that ze had always favored. And more than that. Boots with turned up toes? As if they were in a rich court still. And the leather gloves. Ridiculous.

Balin's hair had gone white, and Óin wondered how much his cousin had grieved. Hair like soot and coal had been one of zir finest features in youth. But it was still meticulously kept and styled. Ze still favored no braids, which meant it must take ages to get it that way.

At first glance, Óin wondered if the century and more in exile had done anything to change his cousin. But then he saw how Balin interacted with the young ones of the party. He saw Balin listen gravely and with every sign of attention to Glóin's talk of Gimli. He saw the gentleness and concern when Balin pulled Thorin aside. He saw things he had never seen when they were young.

So perhaps Balin's love of looking fine was still there. Ze still had some of the vanity Óin remembered. But ze had matured past the superiority that had been there along with it. There was no doubt ze could still reel in the lovers, but Óin was somehow sure that Balin treated them better than ze had.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Óin examines Balin.

"Stay still," Óin ordered irritably, her long fingers probing the bulge of Balin's belly. "I can't tell anything if you're squirming like that."

Balin stilled instantly. "Is there something wrong?" he asked, breath caught in his throat.

And well he should worry. Fundin had had trouble with both births, and had never properly recovered from Dwalin. And Balin wasn't young to be bearing the first time. He was almost 140, and that was after many had given up on bearing. Óin had been very surprised when Balin had come to her with his belly round with child.

"Still and _quiet_ and I'll be able to answer that," Óin snapped. All her attention was on the child. And as Balin followed orders, she was able to hear the heartbeat. Strong, like its father. She could hear Balin's as well, the thumping ramped up from the fear she had just given him.

She prodded him more, feeling his muscles bunch as he resisted the urge to pull away from her invasive fingers. But he was as good as her requirements and stayed still and silent.

"Not long now," she said finally, pulling back and letting him arrange his clothes. "It's a good sized babe. You might have some trouble with it." It wasn't idle warning - Dwalin had nearly turned Fundin inside out.

Balin understood the unspoken assurance that everything seemed right. He beamed, arms around his midsection. "As long as you don't drop it as you did Gimli," he teased.

Óin turned to put away her tools. "If Glóin had actually had the child as he said he did," she griped. She looked up at her cousin from under her brows. Balin was a good shape for bearing and birthing, but he was small and the babe was not. Óin had seen too many births go wrong in the years of exile. She would do her best to keep her cousin's smile and the child that had put it there.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I-- I want more of this.... And using my standard ages, the child is mid 50s at the time of the quest.


End file.
